Bloom where you are planted

I’ve always felt a little out of place. I understand the world, but it didn’t always understand me. I’ve embraced the proverbial “beat of a different drum”. Not everyone finds that title appealing. Even though they don’t want to conform to certain standards, they believe the phrase is a rebuke not a complement.  I always thought of the story of the Little Drummer Boy. He is one of my heroes. A small boy with nothing to give by his drum, and ending up giving the best gift of all.

I must confess  I hid my drum for a many years like a precious secret no one could know. Then I realized my shell was so thick, nobody had the chance to know me.  I don’t  bang it so loud that people cover their ears and ran screaming from the room, but I tap my drum at my own beat and my own pace. It’s too slow for some, and if you can believe it, too fast for others. I beat my drum whenever I give advice or opinions, which I do both often and sometimes without invitation…


The title of my post is “Bloom where you are planted”, so why am I talking about drums? For me the two ideas go hand and hand. For the longest time, I feared the “bloom” because it threatened to change the world around me — uproot me from my comfort zone.  But I was wrong. It is about changing, but not in the way I feared. It’s about growing as a person and a writer. I realized I can bloom where I’m planted. I can turn my face up and enjoy the sunlight and I don’t have to fear the wind or the rain, for both make me stronger. I can keep beating my drum and bloom from right where I’m at.


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